


Even Scarlet O'Hara Never Had Hips Like That

by swirlybutt-mcmangocunt (pumpkinqueene)



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Anal Play, Cunnilingus, F/F, Face-Sitting, Infidelity, Sex Toys, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 04:05:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7669423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinqueene/pseuds/swirlybutt-mcmangocunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jasper is the trophy wife of an old rich guy, and Peridot is the pool girl</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even Scarlet O'Hara Never Had Hips Like That

Mrs D’Onofrio was sunbathing again.

This in itself wasn’t unusual. There was precious little else to do on a summer afternoon when you were the kept trophy wife of a property tycoon and banking magnate whose jealousy prohibited excursions beyond the walls of his play palace when he wasn’t in residence. It was little wonder he was so possessive. At fifty nine years old, he was more than three decades older than his young wife- a statuesque athlete-turned-model whose spectacular curves and ability to lift over a thousand pounds had assured her place in the public consciousness long before she had agreed to marry him. She had settled when she had walked down that aisle. He knew it, she knew it, and everyone else knew it too.

He guarded her like a prize he had won, penning her inside his dystopian paradise under the strictest supervision and around-the-clock care from an army of female servants. No men were to venture inside, and she was not to leave without his say-so. She allowed it. She had traded in her freedom for his money, and found it worth it. 

Peridot couldn’t pretend to empathise. Personally, any respect she might have had for the lady of the house trickled away when she realised that Mrs D’Onofrio was perfectly content playing the docile bimbo because of the perks involved. She had been spectacular, once; an MMA fighter with an unbroken record who was an inspiration to young women the world over. Now she languished in luxury, like an overfed hunting dog. Her collar was an obnoxiously expensive yellow diamond wedding ring, custom made by Graff to her exact specifications. Peridot didn’t want to think about how much money Mrs D’Onofrio was wearing on her finger. Probably more than Peridot’s life was worth, she suspected gloomily.

The downside to all of this luxury and close attention was that Mrs D’Onofrio’s life lacked any kind of spontaneity. She woke up at 6am every morning, and hit the gym for two hours before showering and taking breakfast on the lawn. She ate fruit and cereal, and drank expensive coffee imported from Guatemala, while she checked her social media in a gossamer nightgown which did nothing to conceal the body which had bought her all of these comforts. 

She dressed at nine- designer clothes and pristine make-up- then called her husband, who was away from home more than he was there. After half an hour on the phone, she retired to the study and read on the window seat until lunchtime, which she also took on the lawn. Her afternoon was spent in leisurely pursuits; boxing, on some days (under the expert eye of her husband-approved coach, Garnet Farhan), or else Tennis, Swimming, or some other sport designed to keep her occupied and docile. 

After returning to the house at 6pm, she showered and dressed in floaty negligee, read some more before dinner, and dined alone but for her ever-present hand-picked retinue. She called her husband again afterwards, and Peridot had heard tell that she often sent him racy pictures during this time (although she never seemed enthused by the process). At 9pm on the dot, Mrs D’Onofrio turned out the lights and retired for the night. She awoke at 6am the next morning to do it all over again.

Sometimes, there was some disruption to this routine. Mr D’Onofrio might return home to spend time with his wife, or she might be permitted to leave for some reason or other (shopping, to adorn her husband’s arm at a formal function, a vacation); but generally, her daily routine was stagnant and boring. Peridot may have been the pool girl, but at least she had freedom. She wouldn’t trade any amount of money for that.

One of the most frequent deviations from the norm Mrs D’Onofrio engaged in recently was sunbathing in the afternoons. The weather had been glorious lately; cloudless, hot and breezy, the scent of the orange orchard heavy on the air. She always arrived after lunch, dressed in a silk kimono and Prada sunglasses, that huge rock gleaming on her finger. At her request, her valet spread Egyptian cotton beach towels along the poolside for her, then took her robe as she shrugged out of it. She normally lay there for several hours, basking in the sun’s rays like an overgrown cat while Peridot was forced to work around her. Peridot wouldn’t have minded this (she was used to the whims of rich clods who thought the world owed them everything because of the number of zeros at the end of their bank balances) if not for one problem.

Mrs D’Onofrio had a market aversion to clothing when sunbathing. Or, put another way, the only things she wore while sunbathing were her sunglasses and wedding ring. As much as she was a tiresome, capricious gold digger, she was also probably the hottest woman Peridot had ever seen in her life. Her poor flannel-lesbian heart could scarcely handle the sight of Mrs D’Onofrio in a backless evening gown, let alone the full, uninhibited view of her extremely voluptuous, extremely married nude body.

However, despite the marked frequency of Mrs D’Onofrio’s sunbathing sessions, Peridot had banked on her not turning up by the pool side today. Her husband had arrived home the previous evening, and although his business was private, one thing was crystal clear: he wasn’t happy. Saffron had reported that he had immediately marched into his wife’s bedroom without even removing his expensive Italian spats, slamming the door behind him to preclude any interference or interruptions. They had argued, she’d said gleefully. He had hit her, she had reported more gravely, although she’d admitted that this was mere hearsay. Besides, Mrs D’Onofrio was a good foot taller than her husband. If he laid a finger on her, she would doubtless knock his ass backwards through a wall.

She hadn’t taken her breakfast at 8am on the lawn today. Nor had she read on the window seat, or taken her boxing lesson, or checked her social media, or done any of the things she normally did as part of her daily routine. Peridot had presumed that the naked sunbathing would be postponed too. So when Mrs D’Onofrio showed up at 3pm with her valet in tow and began to untie the sash on her tiny silk robe, Gucci sunglasses perched in her nose and her wedding ring conspicuously absent, Peridot thought she could be excused for staring like a gormless fish.

“Keep gawping like that and you’ll catch flies,” Mrs D’Onofrio remarked, shamelessly nude with both hands perched on her wide hips. Her voice was as beautiful and intimidating as the rest of her; a husky mocha purr which had invaded more than one of Peridot’s fantasies.

“Where’s your ring?” Peridot blurted out unthinkingly, still crouching with her net in the pool. For some reason, Mrs D’Onofrio seemed to find that immensely amusing. She smiled like a tiger, perfect white teeth bared predatorily between her thick brown lips as she lowered her shades to survey Peridot penetratingly. Her golden hazel eyes were rimmed with eyeliner, sharp and smoky.

“Oh, that,” Mrs D’Onofrio sighed, “I’m getting a divorce. So I don’t need to wear it anymore. It’s Peridot, right?”

“What?” Peridot blurted out stupidly, “Uhm, yes. I’m…Deripot. Peridot! I’m…Peridot. You’re getting a divorce?”

She fumbled with the net for wont of something to do with her hands, and watched it sink to the bottom of the pool as her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Any chance of salvaging this situation and putting across an air of nonchalance fell away as quickly as the net, leaving Peridot to cut her losses and stand upright with a sheepish grimace. She resolved to get it later, when she was less flustered and more focussed. The last thing she needed now was to accidentally drown because she was distracted by a beautiful naked woman.

“Yeah, I am,” Mrs D’Onofrio said, shaking out her thick, natural mane, “My PI has an entire database of evidence of my husband’s infidelities. Taken all together, it’s enough to win me a sizable fortune in court. But I let him know last night that I’d be willing to settle for forty per cent of his fortune if he signed the papers there and then. Rather than taking him to the cleaners. Stupid bastard should have made me sign a pre-nup,”

She laughed, but there was nothing bitter about it. On the contrary, she seemed pleased; maybe even elated. She certainly didn’t sound like a woman who had just had her heart stomped on by her unfaithful jackass of a husband, whose obsessive control over her life for fear of her straying now seemed hypocritical on top of misogynistic.

“You’re not upset,” Peridot observed out loud, wincing with contrition when she realised she had blurted that out. 

“No,” Mrs D’Onofrio grinned again, “Everyone and his dog knows I only married him for the money. Now I’ve got the money, and I don’t have to play dolly dress-up with him anymore. So why would I be upset?”

For the first time, Peridot looked at Mrs D’Onofrio- really looked at her, instead of taking it for granted that she was nothing more than an airheaded, money-grabbing clod, docile and accepting of her husband’s iron control over her life. She had fooled them all. The bare-knuckled, foul-mouthed, bruiser in her tiny denim shorts and “fuck the pigs” crop tops may have squashed herself into designer pumps and a simpering smile, but she was still in there under all of that product and jewellery. Peridot had been as naïve as Mr D’Onofrio to think that marriage could change such a woman so completely. 

“You planned this,” Peridot accused, keeping her voice low. They were alone but for Mrs D’Onofrio’s valet, who was standing a short distance away and appeared to be enraptured by a large purple butterfly. Still, it didn’t hurt to be careful.

“Me?” Mrs D’Onofrio said, “The gold-digging whore? Everyone knows I’m too big and stupid to pull off something like that, Peri,”

If asked, Peridot would claim that she didn’t like it when people shortened her name. If pressed, she would admit that her mother called her Dottie, and several of her friends had continued to call her Peri long after she’d asked them to stop, so she had ceased her efforts and accepted her nickname with only a little annoyance. It didn’t annoy her when Mrs D’Onofrio called her Peri. If anything, it felt…intimate; as if they were more familiar with one another than they actually were. As if Peridot had done more than guiltily, surreptitiously stare at her boss’ wife’s incredible tits and ass from a safe distance while pretending to sweep the pristine poolside. Peridot had to tread carefully here. If Mrs D’Onofrio was half as conniving as Peridot suspected she was, she was not a woman you could afford to let your guard down around until her true intentions were made clear.

“Oh please,” Peridot rolled her eyes, trying to pretend that her pulse wasn’t roaring in her ears, “I can use Wikipedia, you know. You graduated suma cum laude from Harvard. Playing stupid won’t work on me,”

“Not anymore, you mean,” Mrs D’Onofrio pointed out, sliding off her sunglasses to gesticulate at Peridot with them. She clamped one of the arms between her teeth, and raised her perfectly sculpted brows as she watched Peridot squirm.

“Not anymore,” Peridot admitted grudgingly, “You set this entire thing up?”

“Oh, that would require me marrying him with intent to divorce him from the beginning,” Mrs D’Onofrio said breezily, “Knowing that he was a serial philanderer and would cheat the moment my back was turned. Plus, I would have had to ensure that no pre-nup was ever filed, and then play a very long game, biding my time until the right moment to spring a PI and then divorce papers on him. Do you think I’m capable of that?”

Yes. Yes she was. She was a ruthless, conniving bitch who had been willing to subject herself to a year-long unhappy marriage under the assumption that there would be a tremendous pay-off at the end, so long as she stayed in flawless character for the entire duration. Suddenly, Peridot found herself appreciating Mrs D’Onofrio for far more than her physical appearance. Any woman who was clever enough to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes and weaponise stereotypes like this, was a woman Peridot could respect.

“Mrs-,” she began, but a perfectly manicured hand, its red nails flashing in the sun, stopped her in her tracks.

“I’m dropping that pretentious white boy name like a bad habit from this very moment. I’m Jasper Fuataga again,”

“O-OK,” Peridot said, once again thrown off-balance, “Ms Fuataga-,”

“Jasper. Call me Jasper,”

Peridot had, of course, been fully aware that “Mrs D’Onofrio” had a first name. She had seen it written down in online news articles; had heard it spoken by reporters. Her husband had certainly never called her anything but her first name, and even Peridot herself had furtively gasped it into the muggy darkness when she was alone in bed, and the memory of summer sun glittering on her boss’ wife’s clitoral piercing refused to leave her mind. It was by no means a revelation that she was called Jasper. The problem was the easy familiarity with which Jasper was addressing Peridot, in expectation that Peridot would reciprocate. If Peridot didn’t know any better, she would suggest that Jasper was flirting with her.

“R-Right,” Peridot laughed nervously, “Jasper. Is anything about you even real?”

The question was abrupt at best, and massively rude at worst. In her defence, Peridot hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but she wasn’t used to being duped with such humiliating totality by anyone, let alone somebody she’d had pigeonholed into a little box labelled “big, hot, and stupid”. Who was Jasper Fuataga really? The MMA champion of Peridot’s teenaged fantasies, wild and butch, her fists marred by another knock-out blow as her sports bra struggled to contain her huge breasts? The femme fatale who had manipulated her husband into marrying her, and played the part of docile wife perfectly while plucking her little puppet strings behind the scenes? Was she both, or neither, or a combination of all of these things, neatly packaged into one rough-housing schemer in designer pumps? Peridot just couldn’t reach a verdict- and that shook her.

Still, it was probably unwise to be so rude to a woman who could kick her ass in every conceivable way. Jasper may have given up her jack boots and tanks, but she had never compromised on her physical training. Even now, after a year of indolent excess, she could break Peridot in half with her pinkie. It was a trait which was as attractive as it was awe-inspiring. 

But Jasper didn’t appear angry. She chuckled quietly, sliding her glasses back onto her face, and snapped her fingers at her daydreaming valet.

“This body is,” she murmured to Peridot in a voice laden with indecency before turning to her valet, “Scarlet, I need my itinerary and two drinks. Fuck it, give me a brandy- the expensive shit. Peridot? What do you want?”

“Uh, well, uhm, that…who, uh…me?” Peridot spluttered, her brain stuck on Jasper’s suggestive remark like a CD skipping over a scratch, “I, uh…I should…I mean, I’m supposed to be working, so another time, maybe?”

She finished on a cringe-worthy squeak, and an even more cringe-worthy presumption. Leave it to her awkward ass to take a one-time courtesy offer as an invitation for further interaction. If there was one thing Peridot knew, it was that rich athlete-model-socialite-bond girls (or whatever Jasper Fuataga was today) did not settle for the company of pool girls when they could be rubbing shoulders with the powerful. Jasper was just being nice- probably uncharacteristically, considering the way she had unrepentantly used her husband.

“Sure,” Jasper smiled wider than ever, “Tonight, after Cesare signs the papers. Come to my apartments and we’ll drink to me getting my lesbian ass the fuck out of dodge. See you at nine,”

She tipped Peridot a wink over the top of her shades, and loudly told Scarlet to bring her two glasses anyway, as she intended to drink both. Peridot couldn’t even fully admire the way Jasper’s spectacular physique looked when it was spread across those fancy towels like that, because she was too busy trying to figure out which aspect of their bizarre exchange she ought to focus on. Jasper offering her a drink? Jasper actually wanting to spend time with her? Jasper extending an invitation to her private apartments? Jasper casually referring to herself as a lesbian? Honestly, at this point, the fact that Jasper had conned her husband into a loveless marriage so she could snag half of his fortune seemed entirely irrelevant in comparison to the other bombshells she was dropping today.

“I…should get back to work,” Peridot said, her nerves clinking together like marbles in a bag, “Yeah, I’m…going to go and do that right now. I have...stuff. I have stuff to do. So I’m going to go and do you- DO STUFF! I’m…going to go and…do the stuff I need to do,”

“Ah, thanks Scarlet, you’re a doll,” Jasper hummed, accepting a frighteningly large glass of iced brandy from her valet, who blushed and shuffled her feet in response to this compliment, “Yeah, Peri, you should go and do stuff. I’ll see you at nine, and don’t be late. Don’t waste my time. I don’t like that. Are you sure you don’t want any brandy?”

“Wouldn’t want to get drunk on the job,” Peridot smiled. Her flustered blush deepened.

“Hm, yes, you’re a little thing,” Jasper remarked, looking Peridot up and down with a blatant, sultry heat which had Peridot squirming beneath her eyes in seconds, “Not a big girl like me. But I can tell that you’re sparky enough to make up for it. Have fun cleaning pool floats,”

Sensing she was being dismissed, Peridot nodded jerkily and lurched away on shaky legs, leaving Jasper to sip on brandy in her sunglasses, the sunlight glowing on her brown skin and sparkling on the gold barbells piercing her nipples. Her legs were closed for the moment- a blessing and a misfortune.

Peridot got no work done for the rest of the day. On Jasper’s suggestion, she tottered away to clean the pool floats the moment she was given leave to; but three hours later, as her alarm buzzed in her waterproof watch to let her know it was dinnertime, she realised she was still half-heartedly scrubbing the same inflatable dolphin she’d started with. Shamefaced, she sloped off to the staff dining room and dropped into a chair amongst a bunch of other estate workers, doing her level best to avoid looking or acting shifty.

“What did you do?” Lapis asked suspiciously, the very instant she clapped eyes on Peridot. 

“Me?” Peridot squeaked. She knew she wasn’t doing herself any favours, but she was terrible at pretending to be calm when she was anything but. 

“Yes, you,” Lapis rolled her eyes, “You must have done something. You’re acting like a kid who’s been caught with their hand stuck in the cookie jar. Did the lady of the house finally call you out for staring at her ass all the time?”

“No,” Peridot scowled, affronted even though she had come to expect such mean-spirited jabs from her friend, “I think she’s flirting with me,”

She spoke the last part in a careful whisper, her eyes flitting around the room, fretful and alert. Admittedly, she doubted that anyone in this room would betray her to their boss (who had long seemed convinced that he resided at Downton Abbey, and therefore any of his staff would love to engage in an illicit dalliance or two with him- regardless of their continued emphatic protests). She was more worried about the inevitable teasing and gossip, especially if she was wrong and Jasper had not a whit of interest in her. Lapis teasing her was inevitable, but Peridot hoped to keep it limited to Lapis. 

True to form, Lapis dropped her customary expression of indifference immediately, in favour of a smirk.

“I’m pretty sure she flirts with everyone,” she said. That was true enough.

“No, I mean…,” Peridot said, “I think she was coming onto me. Not the usual stuff,”

“Pfft, wow,” Lapis snorted, “She’s risking her marriage for you?”

It wasn’t an intentionally cruel remark, but it was cutting all the same- mainly because Peridot knew she would have been thinking the same thing, had she been in Lapis’ position. Peridot was short and erratic, with a pointy nose, long face, and lips so thin, they may as well have not been there. She cut her own hair (which was exactly as bad as it sounded), and her voice sounded like it belonged to a cartoon alien, rather than a young grad student trying to make a few extra bucks over the summer by attending to some rich fucker’s pool. Her clothes were baggy, her movements clumsy, and her feet oddly broad compared with the rest of her body. 

So yes, Peridot was also wondering what Jasper could possibly see in her. Even so, she still felt compelled to defend herself, and the fragile scraps of pride she still clung to like the remnants of a much-loved but sadly charred book. 

“She’s getting a divorce,” Peridot sniped, pouring herself some juice, “He’s signing the papers tonight. So she’s not risking anything,”

“I’m sorry, Peri,” Lapis sighed, “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that,”

“Yeah, well,” Peridot shrugged, mollified, “I don’t know…I could be reading too much into this, I guess? She’s been calling me Peri, and she told me to call her Jasper, and she offered me brandy and asked me to come to her apartments tonight at nine, after the papers are signed. It kind of seems like she’s coming onto me,”

“Peri,” Lapis groaned, dropping her head onto the table with a thunk, “Coming onto you would be asking you out for a drink or something. “Call me Jasper, by the way I’m soon to be divorced, have some expensive alcohol and come to my bedroom at nine so you can eat my pussy” is throwing herself at you!”

“She didn’t say that last part!” Peridot protested. Even her ears were burning at this point, as Lapis lifted her head and slammed Peridot with a heavy glare.

“Why else would she invite you to her bedroom?” Lapis demanded, “To get your opinion on the décor? Peri, come on, you’re killing me here!”

Peridot was no innocent, but for some reason, the idea that Jasper could possibly be inviting her over for sex had never occurred to her. Perhaps her own physical shortcomings versus Jasper’s six-and-a-half-feet of tits and ass had set up a mental roadblock which her brain had been unable to surpass in order to consider such a notion. Perhaps she was still reeling from the fact that her every presumption about Jasper had been wrong. Whatever the reason, the sudden realisation that Jasper was absolutely propositioning her left Peridot virtually bewildered for the rest of the day. 

By the time 8:45 rolled around, she had thought of nothing but Jasper’s pierced pussy for the past two hours. It had left her extremely horny yet markedly nervous; but she was resolved to go to Jasper’s apartments- just as they’d arranged- and hope that she didn’t prove inadequate or disappointing. She showered thoroughly- paying special attention to her intimate parts and trimming her nails with burgeoning excitement roiling in her gut- and donned a turquoise summer dress she had borrowed from Lapis. Then she freaked out, decided that it was too much, and threw on a shimmery green blouse and capris instead. Nobody wanted to look like a try-hard. The last thing Peridot needed right now was to scare Jasper off by coming on too strongly, too soon.

The west wing was completely devoid of anyone, staff or resident, when Peridot slipped into the service entrance just before nine. Jasper must have sent them all away for the night so that she wouldn’t be disturbed. Peridot’s strong suspicion that Jasper was angling for sex condensed into utter certainty as she hurried along corridors and up flights of stairs, her heart battering itself against her sternum and stealing the breath from her throat. She paused beside an antique urn, and told herself to calm the fuck down.

Fleetingly, the question of where the jilted ex-husband was tonight popped up in Peridot’s head, but it was soon trampled by gratifying images of Jasper as she’d looked this afternoon: glowing and bare and thick-thighed; white-haired, golden-eyed, her lips shimmering with nude lipstick. Peridot had only ever caught a glimpse of her pussy- a quiet flash of golden barbell, and brown skin bleeding into candy pink- but it had been enough to foster and nourish Peridot’s fantasies in the months since she had first tripped over a deck chair at the sight of Jasper briefly spreading her legs in a feline stretch as she lounged in the sun.

Peridot wasn’t sure what the protocol was for announcing your presence at the prearranged location of a liaison between a rich divorcee and her pool girl (although she did have a fleeting thought that this sounded like the plot of a lesbian pulp novel). Was she supposed to sneak in beneath a shroud of secrecy? Should she knock? Was there a secret code-word she was supposed to speak to let Jasper know she was alone- something Jasper had slipped between the lines of their conversation, and Peridot had missed it? 

Peridot stopped herself there, and reminded herself that this was not, in fact, a lesbian pulp novel. Also, it was 8:59pm, and Jasper deplored lateness. If Peridot didn’t let Jasper know she was here soon, this opportunity may be taken off the table, and Peridot would be left with nothing but her fingers and her little bullet vibe to get her through the night. They would be a poor substitute for a beautiful woman with breasts bigger than Peridot’s entire head.

She made up her mind, and rapped on the door with her knuckles. The echoes made her wince, but getting caught sneaking into her boss’ ex-wife’s bedroom to fuck said ex-wife suddenly seemed inconsequential when the door creaked open and Peridot was suddenly looking directly at said ex-wife’s amply cleavage, framed by the low-cut collar of her robe.

“Nice shirt,” Jasper smiled, filling the entire doorway with her hips, “I take it you’d like that drink now?”

Her natural hair had been wrestled into an elaborate, pin-filled up-do, exposing the diamond studs decorating her earlobes. She was wearing some kind of collar around her neck; a slender string of pearls, with a larger, teardrop-shaped pearl dangling in the hollow of her throat. Peridot found herself wondering if that was all Jasper was wearing beneath that robe.

“Yeah,” Peridot nodded like a bobbing dog, “Thanks,”

Jasper gestured for her to enter, and Peridot ducked beneath her arm with a flustered smile. The room within was exactly as Peridot had expected it to be: an extravagant, open plan space with shiny oak flooring, a high ceiling, plush furnishings, and obscenely expensive electronics. But what drew her gaze was the immense island of a bed; draped in silks and taffeta, covered in a mountain of pillows, and raised up on a dais like the throne of a queen. 

“I know, it’s a lot,” Jasper said, “But I love my bed. I never allowed my ex-husband to lie in it. Would you like to?”

“You’re…very forward,” Peridot observed hoarsely.

“Well, subtle wasn’t working for me,” Jasper grinned, “Hell, I sunbathed naked in front of you for an entire year, and you didn’t get the hint- and that’s a pretty obvious hint,”

“Thought you just liked sunbathing,” Peridot mumbled, hunching her shoulders about her ears. Jasper laughed, deep and throaty and smooth, strolling over to the mini bar. There was a crystal carafe of brandy sitting there, beside a bucket of ice and a clutch of glasses. Peridot would have discounted the whole display as laughably cliché (since the curvy woman in her silk robe and jewels pouring out brandy was something straight off the silver screen) if not for two facts: firstly, no silver screen siren had ever poured that much brandy into a single glass before; and secondly, even Scarlet O’Hara never had hips like that.

“I liked the cute pool girl with the little round ass and fiery temper,” Jasper explained, dropping a liberal amount of ice into both glasses until the liquid level climbed dangerously high, “I liked the little nerd in her little glasses who didn’t even pretend not to stare. Still do, in fact,”

She pushed one of the glasses into Peridot’s chest, sloshing brandy onto her blouse. Peridot was so ruffled by the chill and Jasper’s proximity- her smell, the flecks of gold and brown in her amber eyes, the pearls around her throat and the line of her buxom cleavage- that she forgot to be flustered over their fingers brushing as she rushed to take the glass.

“Oops,” Jasper said, insincere, “I guess you’ll have to take that off,”

“You first,” Peridot challenged, refusing to be outdone. She didn’t know where this sudden burst of audacity was coming from, but it seemed to please Jasper, if her heavy-lidded smirk was anything to go by. Peridot had always been the type to run her mouth at anyone and everyone. The only reason Jasper had been exempt (up until now) was because Peridot had thusfar struggled to get two words out in her presence while all of her naked velvet flesh was on obscene display, like a masterpiece in the Louvre. It was hard to be mouthy when you couldn’t get your mouth to work.

Now that she knew Jasper was an insufferable clod, who poured too much brandy and was sufficiently awkward that she utilised such seduction techniques as “dump alcohol onto target” and “show ‘em your tits”…well, it was hard to remain intimidated and overawed by her. She remained as fiercely beautiful as ever, of course; but she was no Marie Antoinette. She was more of a Catherine the Great, without all of the power: regal for sure, but saucy and crude and the very opposite of reserved. Peridot liked her, tiresome though she was; just as Peridot had liked the brash MMA fighter of her teen years, thong straps on her hips and blood on her knuckles. She had thought that woman lost, all of her hard edges polished away by a controlling husband and too much luxury. It was a relief to find out that she had been wrong.

“Ah, so you do have a backbone under all of that flannel,” Jasper observed, “I think I like it when you order me around. Do it again,”

As if to prove Peridot right, she knocked back her entire glass of brandy in one hit, and returned to the mini bar to serve herself an equally frivolous amount. The seat of her robe was stretched to its limit over her ass, and her shoulders flexed, broad and powerful, beneath the material.

“You first,” Peridot repeated on auto-pilot, transfixed but refusing to be bested. She took a gulp of brandy to steady her nerves, and tried to ignore Jasper’s satisfied leer.

“Yeah, OK,” Jasper said, finishing her second glass. She set the empty tumbler down with a clack and levelled Peridot with a coquettish look, her eyelashes as dark and smooth as crows feathers. Her robe was burgundy, patterned with the snarling outlines of tigers, and as she slinked towards the bed like a predator, hips swaying indecently, she unspooled the sash and dropped the drape of silk off her shoulders. 

“Holy shit,” Peridot breathed. Just in time, she remembered the glass of brandy she was holding, and managed not to drop it onto the expensive rug beneath her feet; but it was a near thing.

She had been wrong. Jasper wasn’t completely naked beneath that robe- at least, not nominally. Shakily, Peridot set her brandy down on the nearest flat surface, unable to withdraw her gaze from the breadth of those shoulders; the narrowness of Jasper’s waist, and her hips, as wide as those of a mother goddess figurine; her thick thighs and stout ass, as round and plump as a peach. All was draped in strings of pearls, held together by slender silver chains like strands of water or spider silk. They were evocative against her skin, thousands of sparkling droplets of white curling around her neck and over her ribs and back, dangling down in shimmering vines, and sneaking into the divide of her ass. Diamonds sparkled in Jasper’s ears, and gold was in her eyes. Peridot swallowed, and wondered why Jasper had been so intent on wordly riches when she was a treasure all by herself. Seconds later, she grimaced, appalled by her own mushiness. 

“Exactly the reaction I was hoping for,” Jasper laughed, turning around to face Peridot.

“Holy shit!” Peridot repeated in a breathy squeak, scrubbing her hands over her burning face, “You’re…Wow. Uh. You’re really…I hate you so much right now,”

Jasper laughed again, mean and delighted, but with a warm hint of relieved flattery beneath her posturing. She was, of course, just as spectacular from the front as she was from the back. Pearls crisscrossed her torso, gleaming at her throat, twisting erotically around the immensity of her breasts, and (Peridot felt her heart actually leap into her throat and her belly clench as she noticed this) trailing into the parting of her plump pussy. Gold shone in the hood of her clit, just visible beneath the pearls. She wore a nipple chain, too, which hung from the barbells piercing the puffy peaks of her breasts, with their delicate filigree shields. Peridot’s mouth went dry at the sight, but between her legs, she was wetter than she’d ever been in her life.

“I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about you all night,” Jasper said, running her hands over her own body admiringly, “I’ve been distracting myself. Because I knew if I thought about you, I’d get horny. And one of my ex-husband’s weird things that he made me do was specifying that I can only wear silk underwear. Silk doesn’t stand up well to pussy juice, you know. That wasn’t a problem around him- and whenever I needed to touch myself, I’d make sure to take em off first and lay down a towel…but around you? Oh sweetheart…,”

She didn’t need to finish that sentence. Even if her meaning wasn’t abundantly clear, her burgeoning need was. Peridot had thought that Jasper had been exaggerating when she’d claimed she put down a towel before touching herself and was apt to ruin her panties, but it was immediately obvious that this wasn’t the case. Jasper was wet; incredibly wet, for someone who hadn’t been touched yet. It glistened on her thick labia in a viscous sheen, coating the pearls until they gleamed as if they had just come out of the water. Little trails trickled down her thighs like peach juice, and Peridot salivated at the thought of chasing those dark lines up to the source, and tasting her there where she was sweet and wet. She bit into the clenched curl of her index finger until it stung.

“Aww, come on,” Jasper smiled with her tongue trapped between her teeth, “So quiet! I signed up for a firecracker, not a damp dishcloth,”

 

It was hardly a subtle jibe, but Peridot took the bait anyway. She released her finger from her mouth and bristled with a narrow-eyed glare, her nostrils flaring and her lips pursing into a tiny pale pinprick in her face. Jasper simpered, tilting her head like a tiger considering its prey. She wanted to rile Peridot up; to goad her into action, into taking charge and pushing Jasper down, and fucking her in ways she hadn’t experienced in years. She wanted to rile Peridot up, and Peridot was letting her. 

“You insufferable clod!” Peridot snarled, stomping over to her, flat-footed and graceless, “How do you expect me to push you around when you’re about two feet taller than me and several times my weight?”

“I thought you liked my size,” Jasper said, blinking guilelessly. It was false, just like the acrylic glued to her fingertips and painted boudoir red. In the past, Peridot would have been fooled, but she could see it now.

“Yes, I love how big and curvy and strong you are!” she snapped testily, “But I have skinny arms and asthma! Get on the bed!”

The order was out of her mouth before she knew she was making it; but it was too late to rescind it, even if she’d wanted to. Jasper had already turned towards the bed, swaying her hips as she swanned over to step onto the dais. Her ass flexed as she moved, so big and lush that Peridot was almost overcome by the urge to bite it. As she placed one knee on the mattress, she turned her gaze over her shoulder, biting her lip. Her eyes shone like sunset through whiskey. Peridot tugged at her collar, swallowing hard.

“Like this?” Jasper asked, lowering herself onto her hands and knees. She turned her head to the side to snare Peridot in her gaze, the muscles in her arms flexing and her breasts hanging heavy and full beneath her, trailing that alluring chain between them. Peridot wanted to pull on it with fingers and teeth; to watch Jasper whine and squirm as her barbells yanked her nipples taut, until they were swollen and sore and she was thoroughly wet and aching. Peridot could feel her own need seeping into her pants, and furtively ground the heel of her palm into her crotch.

“What do you want?” Jasper asked with a chuckle, “You’re not giving me much to work with here,”

“Sit on my face,” Peridot said, and promptly slapped a hand over her mouth, cheeks bright with mortification.

This was yet another thing she hadn’t meant to say out loud. She had many such moments when she was around Jasper, although they weren’t unique to Jasper. Peridot had a reputation for putting her foot in her mouth, and saying exactly the wrong thing at the right time to offend or annoy people. She’d gotten better at it lately, choosing her words more carefully before letting them loose. Unfortunately, Jasper’s mere presence was enough to tear away Peridot’s filter and trigger a deluge of word vomit.

Yet when she dared to look up from the floor to meet Jasper’s gaze, it was not annoyance or anger or even amusement she found pooling in the mirror of those eyes. It was hunger, as hot and searing and dizzying as a desert whirlwind, slamming into Peridot and stealing her in its embrace. A shuddering breath left her lips.

“I’m twice your size,” Jasper reminded her. It wasn’t a no. She wasn’t smirking anymore either.

“We’ll manage,” Peridot said determinedly. She was already stumbling over to the bed, shedding her clothes clumsily with nerveless fingers. Her blouse ended up under the armoire, her capris in a dark corner, and she was fairly sure her socks would never be reunited; but finally, she made it to Jasper’s side in her lacy seafoam bra and matching panties, and scrambled up onto the bed to join her.

Compared to Jasper’s careful seduction, Peridot was proving herself slapdash and overeager. She felt like a stupid teenager again, drunk on cheap diluted beer and the erraticism of her own hormones as she crawled over the mattress, scattering pillows. Jasper greeted her with a husky laugh, turning onto her back; and Peridot darted after her, straddling a thigh to push into Jasper’s space, and breathing in her warm scent and the sweet musk swirling up from between her legs. The perfume she was wearing probably carried a price tag Peridot would find outrageous, and she doubted that any of the jewels and gold Jasper was wearing could possibly be costume. She was the most expensive thing Peridot had ever unwrapped, all done up like a Fabergé egg. 

“It’s not even my birthday until January,” Peridot mumbled dazedly, nuzzling into the ladder of Jasper’s throat as she braced herself with both hands on the mattress. Jasper’s breasts pressed up against Peridot’s ribs and chest, trailing pearls and gold. Their plush, soft flesh and the erotic solidity of her flesh-warmed barbells- the drag of chain, and the protrusion of her fat nipples- set Peridot’s clit throbbing sympathetically. She breathed in and out through her nose, hoping to steady her nerves. It didn’t work.

“Should I have saved the pearls for then instead?” Jasper quipped. Her voice rumbled through her chest and throat, and Peridot bit her just beneath the ear in revenge.

“Oh,” Jasper sighed, tilting her head back into her pillows, “Yeah, like that. Do it again,”

Peridot seriously debated denying her, just to be petty. It was a pointless, counterproductive urge which would only increase Peridot’s chances of getting kicked out of the room, but it was almost worth it, just to see Jasper’s face as she was disappointed. Jasper was a beauty, who possessed a peculiar brand of charisma which didn’t make her any less irritating; and it was this remarkable character trait which had the capacity to draw out the worst of Peridot’s childish tendencies. She felt like a toddler who was willing to eat the crayons just to deprive the other children of the chance to use them. 

“If I do, will you sit on my face?” she asked, grazing her lower incisors over Jasper’s pulse.

“Mm, you want to die so bad,” Jasper sighed, “Do you have any idea how much I weigh?”

“No,” Peridot said, unconcerned, “I mean, I can tell you’ve got a couple of thanksgiving turkey’s worth on your chest. Not the small ones. I’m talking about those record-setters at the county fair,”

“Wow, you sure know how to sweet talk a lady,” Jasper snorted, her ample chest shaking with laughter, “If I sit on your face, you’re gonna suffocate and drown,”

“Everyone has to go sometime,” Peridot reminded her, with a gravitas completely unsuited to their lewd topic of conversation, “Wait, drown?”

“Well, I just got my divorce and a bunch of money, so I’m not too keen on getting arrested for killing a spunky twerp by sitting my fat ass on her little pin head,” Jasper smiled, ruffling Peridot’s hair until she squawked, “How about I lift you against a wall and fuck your brains out instead?”

Peridot couldn’t deny that the suggestion sparked beneath her skin like static before a storm. In that moment, she was sixteen again, furtively clutching a pillow in her lap as the UFC championship played out across her television screen, and two powerful women clashed in a knot of snarling teeth and powerful limbs. Jasper Fuataga emerged victorious, and Peridot emerged a confirmed lesbian. 

For her teenaged self, the idea of that woman picking her up in those thick arms in a superfluous display of strength and fucking her against a wall would have seemed like a scene pulled out of one of her self-insert fanfics, not like something which could actually happen to her. Even now, aged twenty one, a sense of unreality afflicted her. Women liked Jasper just didn’t notice women like her, and Peridot had to wonder what kind of karmic backlash would result from her moment of extraordinary good luck. Maybe she wouldn’t get the research grant after all. To her shame, she found that she wouldn’t mind all that much if she could just get Jasper to queen her.

“No,” she said anyway, voice cracking, “I want you to sit on my face,”

Jasper’s laugh was a delighted boom which echoed around the room.

“I’ve got toys, you know,” she offered, “A huge collection, under the bed,”

“Yes, and I’d love to use them on you later,” Peridot mumbled into her neck (her words may have been bold, but she was not), “But I want you to sit on my face. Or do you really not want to? I was going on the assumption that your reticence is due to logistical issues, rather than preference, but if you’re not interested-,”

“How dare you use words like “reticence” and “logistical” when you’re in bed with me,” Jasper cut in mildly.

“Jasper!” Peridot harangued her, lifting her head to glare. Her glasses were smudged with sweat, but she didn’t need to be able to see properly to know that Jasper was smirking at her.

“Sure, OK, fine,” Jasper relented, “I would love nothing more than to grind all over your face and make you eat it-,” (Peridot whimpered embarrassingly, a hot thrill cutting into her), “-but I don’t want to crush your skull,”

“So don’t put your full weight on me,” Peridot bargained, her resolve stronger than ever in the wake of Jasper’s lurid remarks, “I’ll pinch you if I’m dying. Please?”

Ordinarily, she would never dream of interacting with her employer on such informal and insulting terms- but, then again, she’d also never contemplate sleeping with any other employer, either. This was an exception to the rule. Jasper was Jasper, in all of her infuriating, capricious, amoral glory, and Peridot thought she might be able to love this woman, given enough time. For now, she would settle for the sex- if Jasper ever got off her ass, that is.

“Fine,” Peridot said, “If you won’t listen to bargains, I suppose I’ll have to order you. Jasper, get up. Now,”

She took the opportunity to vacate her perch while Jasper sat in frozen surprise, her precise eyebrows flicking up her forehead. Peridot anticipated more smart remarks, so she was pleased when instead, Jasper remained mute and slowly clambered onto her knees, scooting over on the bed as Peridot gestured pointedly at her to give up her position.

“I don’t think-,” she finally said.

“You said you liked it when I told you what to do,” Peridot snipped, fluffing up a pillow, “This is me telling you what to do. Now sit on my face. I told you, I’ll let you know if I’m close to death,”

With a final obstinate jut of her jaw, she flopped down into Jasper’s former position and pointed at her own face.

“And keep the pearls and everything,” she added hastily.

“Sure, Poindexter, but you should probably take off your glasses first,” Jasper sniggered; and just like that, Peridot fell into her awkward fish-out-of-water role once again. She hurriedly pulled her glasses off her face, folded them primly, and placed them on a nearby pillow. With any luck, she wouldn’t have to worm her arm down the back of the headboard to retrieve them tomorrow morning. 

“OK, let’s do this,” she said to herself as she wriggled back into place.

“You’re such a fucking dork, Peri,” Jasper chuckled, “It’s my pussy, not a video game,”

Pussies don’t have cheat codes, Peridot’s brain supplied. For obvious reasons, she chose not to say that out loud. She may have been nervous, but she hoped she wasn’t yet nervous enough to lose her cool completely and sabotage herself so thoroughly. She doubted whether Jasper would remain reluctantly enthused by the prospect of riding Peridot’s face if she knew that Peridot was seriously debating whether an MPS was more complex and confusing than eating pussy. 

“You ready?” Jasper asked, “We can stop whenever,”

“If you don’t shut up and sit on my face in a minute…,” Peridot snapped, grasping around for the kind of threat Jasper might take seriously, “I’ll…well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but you won’t get to orgasm, that’s for sure!”

“Keep your wig on, jelly bean,” Jasper smiled, rolling her eyes, “And for the record, I weigh over two hundred pounds,”

Peridot’s final thought was wow, that is a lot of woman, before she ceased to have any coherent thoughts at all. Jasper swung her leg over Peridot’s head, insistently straddling her face but still hesitating to lower herself fully. The mattress dipped tremendously beneath her knees. This time, Peridot didn’t complain immediately. It gave her ample time to appreciate a close-up, unobstructed view of Jasper, from an angle she never thought she would be lucky enough to experience. She ran her hands up Jasper’s inner thighs, the softness indenting beneath her fingertips. It was all slippery and shiny where slick had seeped out of Jasper, and Peridot pursued the source at a gradual, skittering pace, scratching her nails along the pudge of Jasper’s thick upper thighs until goosebumps sprang up in her wake. Jasper shifted, her exhale shaky, but she stayed where she was.

She had a pleasingly symmetrical vagina, Peridot’s clinical mind decided. Her hindbrain was more interested in how soft it looked, all plump outer lips and delicate, flushed folds, so pink and pretty at their centre, and glistening with desire. It was parted by the spread of Jasper’s legs and the pearls threading through the middle, pressing into the nub of her clit and its golden piercing in a way which must surely have felt maddeningly good. Peridot was reminded of a butterfly in flight. She coaxed her thumb beneath the band of pearls to furl into Jasper’s entrance, luring out more slick; and, as though from a leaf after rainfall, it spilled down Peridot’s wrist and pattered onto her throat.

“Told you you might drown,” Jasper croaked as Peridot’s blinked in shock.

“Don’t care,” Peridot mumbled as the ember of her arousal burst into flame. She slipped her hand past the elastic of her own panties and danced her fingers over her clit. Not as wet as Jasper’s (or as pretty, in her own self-conscience opinion, although a part of her told her that Jasper would disagree), but moisture had bled through the crotch, leaving the silk cool and damp against her knuckles as she fingered herself. With her other hand, she tugged at the pearls, ribboning them up between Jasper’s lips as Jasper gasped out a quiet little “oh”.

“On my face,” Peridot said, “Now,”

This time- for the first time- Jasper offered no arguments. Her knees slid out on either side of her, and she drew in towards Peridot’s face, closer and closer until her scent filled Peridot’s nose, and the heat of her arousal wafted off her like steam off water. Just in time, Peridot remembered to move aside the pearls; and then Jasper’s cunt settled onto her mouth and chin, and Peridot moaned into her, fingers moving along her own folds in languid ellipses as her tongue lapped into the well of slick pouring from Jasper’s core. Jasper’s thighs twitched around her ears, but her considerable weight didn’t come fully crashing down on Peridot’s head. 

She was so warm; warm and surprisingly gentle, suspending herself on her knees even as she rocked herself against Peridot’s lips and nose. Her ass was pillow-soft beneath Peridot’s clutching fingers, and the barbell piercing her hood caught against Peridot’s nose everytime she slid across Peridot’s face, all wet and needy and more than Peridot could ever have imagined. Peridot could hear nothing but the thunder of her pulse in her own head; could taste and smell nothing but Jasper’s cunt as she dripped into Peridot’s mouth and down her cheeks. If this was drowning, it wasn’t so bad.

Jasper liked having her clit sucked, and Peridot liked the contrast between silk and gold; the delicate, tissue-paper translucence of Jasper’s hood, the rigidity of the barbell, and the prominent contours beneath the skin, where the metal threaded through it. Peridot settled on it with greedy abandon, fluttering her tongue over Jasper’s clit, clenching metal between her teeth to toy with it, pulling and plucking at swollen flesh; sucking sweet and slow as copious fluid soaked into her hair beneath her neck. Her lower face was dripping wet, and she wildly wondered whether Jasper’s scent would linger in her nose, or if her sense would be full of the musk of pussy for days. Maybe, she thought, astonished by the raunchy direction her mind was heading in, Maybe she wouldn’t have time to clean up properly after they were done, and she would have to take the walk of shame knowing that everyone could smell it on her. She grunted heatedly, furrowing her nails into Jasper’s ass as she fed two fingers from her other hand into her own warmth.

Past the mufflers of Jasper’s chunky thighs, Peridot could hear nothing- nothing apart from the steady drumroll of her pulse and the snuffly rasp of her own breath in her own head. If Jasper was moaning or screaming, Peridot would never know; but the frequent pace of remarkable rushes of wetness, and the erratic grind of Jasper’s hips on her face, and the sweat shimmering on Jasper’s breast like gold dust, and her helpless, enraptured, slack-jawed face, pupils blown as she stared down between her legs…as Peridot held Jasper’s gaze, she detected only guttural, desperate pleasure. She closed her eyes and delved closer, tracing Jasper’s hole with the point of her tongue as her own pussy leaked around her fingers.

Peridot’s enthusiasm could not be doubted, but her endurance could- frequently, assuredly, and emphatically. She would have loved to eat Jasper out all day, but her nose was pressed back uncomfortably, and the muscles in her jaw burned. Jasper was a big woman, thick-set and enthusiastic, and as much as she was holding back out of consideration, Peridot could not endure two hundred pounds on her face indefinitely. She would have to tap out soon.

However, before she could, Jasper took that decision out of her hands. Why did you stop? Peridot wanted to ask, and then Jasper answered that question without prompting. She fell forwards onto her palms, angling her cunt away but inadvertently squashing Peridot’s face beneath her soft belly. Her hips jolted spasmodically, and without the crush of her thighs enveloping Peridot’s head, Peridot was able to hear her for the first time, moaning high and hoarse- and, oh, she realised that Jasper was coming, and she sounded so lovely that Peridot’s fingers stilled in her panties as she was consumed by the sheer, heady eroticism of Jasper in ecstasy. But perhaps even more show-stopping was the sudden surge of heat as a Peridot’s breasts were inundated with a deluge which could only have come from Jasper’s cunt.

“Ooooh shit, you’re a squirter!” Peridot gabbled into Jasper’s belly, voice unheard. It was perhaps the hottest thing she’d ever experienced. Next time, she told herself, she would be in a position to look her fill.

It was only when Jasper finally slumped to the side and rolled onto her back that Peridot realised just how stifling it had been in there. She gulped in great gasps of air, her face sticky with sweat and juices. Jasper had been right to express her reservations about Peridot’s ability to withstand that kind of treatment, and judging from her smugly expectant expression, she thought herself vindicated.

“That’s obviously cheap, so just throw it into the laundry and it’ll be fine,” she said, poking Peridot’s soggy bra with her nail. She didn’t look like she’d just ridden someone’s face to completion. She was a little flushed and sweaty, but every single pin remained anchored into her perfect hair, and she wasn’t even panting. She looked more like she’d been doing some light yoga or calisthenics- but, then again, she was a star athlete. Her endurance must have been supreme, and Peridot found that she very much wanted to test Jasper’s limitations.

“You didn’t tell me you were a squirter,” she accused, batting Jasper’s hand away.

“I told you you might drown,” Jasper grinned like a shark, “Does it gross you out?”

No! Peridot’s brain yelled, but outwardly, she cleared her throat and tried to look only mildly interested in this conversation.

“Did you husband hate it?” she asked carefully, itching to touch all of that brown skin but unsure if she had permission. Jasper swathed in pearls and gold, lying on top of silk sheets in a relaxed, post-coital daze was possibly the most luxuriant, decadent thing Peridot had ever witnessed. Yet a primal part of her wanted to snap each gossamer thread and scatter her pearls, and to splinter her golden chains like firewood; to mess her up and reduce her to her uninhibited nakedness, so that Peridot could see the reality beneath her carefully crafted falsehood. Jasper Fuataga was beautiful like this, but she was more at home in ripped jean shorts and low-cut shirts, uncaring everyone could see the tempting outlines of her nipples.

“Ex-husband. Hm, he doesn’t know,” Jasper confided with a mean laugh, “He’s never made me come,”

There it was; the customary brutality of a woman who was as used to bruising with her tongue as with her fists.

“You haven’t come either,” Jasper continued, walking her fingers down Peridot’s belly to tap against the waistband of her panties, “Let’s fix that, shall we? I think I said something about pinning to against a wall and fucking your brains out?”

It was hasty and messy and primitive, all strong arms and thick fingers bundled into her, and the jut of oak panelling in her spine. It was Jasper’s lipstick circling the bitemarks below her ear, around her jugular, in the hollow of her throat and the curve of her shoulder. She hadn’t cleaned her face, and her panties dangled off one foot as Jasper held her there, cradled in a single, powerful arm, and she expertly ringed Peridot’s clit with her thumb and fucked into her with three thick fingers as Peridot whined and wailed and came with a whimper and a gurgle of Jasper’s name into the meat of a powerful shoulder. She couldn’t stand when they were done, and Jasper sniggered, calling her a light weight and asking if she was done for the night already. They were fighting words if Peridot had ever heard any.

Jasper had admitted that she kept her toys beneath her bed. After five minutes’ repose, Peridot set out to retrieve them, blushing to her ears at the crude, mannish whistle Jasper tossed her way as she wriggled her way beneath the bed, ass in the air. They were kept in a large, lacquered box, patterned in crude carvings of flowers made to look like vulvas (or was that vulvas made to look like flowers?). If the box was enough to leave Peridot flustered, the contents were even worse. Dildos and vibes, hitachi wands and anal beads; butt plugs, rabbits, bullet vibes, and bizarrely-shaped toys Peridot didn’t even have a name for. Jasper may not have found satisfaction in her very male husband during their marriage, but she’d spent enough of his money to ensure that she got it elsewhere.

Peridot chose a modestly-sized pearlescent-white dildo at first, but she swapped it out for a monstrous green, bumpy thing when Jasper scoffed and called her vanilla bean. She was being facetious, yet Jasper pronounced it a good choice, and Peridot had to wonder what kind of depraved woman she had climbed into bed with. The thing was as thick as Peridot’s wrist, and provocatively, intimidatingly long, but Jasper seemed to relish the thick slide as Peridot gingerly inched it into her, all the way to the plastic balls at its base. There had been no need for lube, but plenty of need for a towel- or perhaps plastic sheeting. Jasper’s lips tasted like cosmetics when Peridot kissed her, and her tongue held the sharpness of peppermint. 

“You smell like pussy,” Jasper laughed.

“Yes, yours,” Peridot scowled pointedly, tonguing a nipple past all of that metal as she traced her fingernail around Jasper’s hole where is pursed around the toy plunged right into her greedy depths.

This time, when she came, Peridot was witness to the whole thing. It was a full-bodied experience; all trembling, curling legs, and jerking hips, and feet and hands which drummed on the mattress and dug into the sheets. She gushed like a geyser, and swore like a soldier, and it was in some ways entirely in character for her to be this overdramatic and spectacularly messy.

Unlike Peridot, she didn’t seem to understand the concept of a refractory period. Second after the final spurt, she dragged her toy box over, pulled out a slender vibe, and suggested that Peridot should get on her back and enjoy the special treatment.

They didn’t call it quits until after four am. In Jasper’s defence, she could have kept going, but Peridot was not- and had never been- a superhuman athlete with the libido of twenty Casanovas. She had come six times, and had found her limit. Jasper had acquiesced to post-coital cuddling, but even after experiencing an astonishing array of sex acts (including a surprising amount of anal play, which hadn’t previously interested Peridot at all until she’d seen Jasper stuffed in both holes, playing with her own nipples as she bit her smirking lip) she had been willing to go again until she’d seen Peridot’s horrified face.

“You’re not human,” Peridot slurred, lying on her back with her arm over her face. She was still wearing her damp bra, but her panties had long ago disappeared.

“Wow, rude,” Jasper said mildly, “We should do this again soon,”

“I don’t know if I could survive a second encounter,” Peridot said.

“Is that a no?” Jasper asked.

“It’s a “if I have to die, this is how I choose to go”,” Peridot corrected her, “I’m sorry your husband couldn’t satisfy you. Then again, can anyone?”

“You had a good go,” Jasper snorted, pinging Peridot’s awol panties at her head.

“I can’t believe you married a guy for his money,” Peridot grumbled, “That’s so messed up and yet I admire you for it, in a sick way,”

“Well, I figured we were both getting something out of it,” Jasper said remorselessly, “He got twenty three year old pussy on tap, I got money. If you ask me, I’m the one who got the worst deal,”

“He’s an old misogynist who cheated on you and locked you up here so you couldn’t find someone better,” Peridot agreed. She didn’t trouble to remove her panties from the arm covering her face. She didn’t even think she had the strength left in her to accomplish that anyway.

“Yeah,” Jasper said, “Fuck, I can’t wait to wear jeans again,”

“Your ass looks good in jeans,” Peridot disclosed with her face turned into a pillow, half-asleep already. This time, it was a sock which hit in her in the face, right in the nose. She jolted upright with a snort of outrage.

“You should bathe,” Jasper suggested as she unhooked her nipple chain.

“I can’t move!” Peridot snapped, “I think my legs have ceased to function!”

“Then I’ll carry you,” Jasper smirked, “Can’t have you stinking up my bed. I’ll have Saffron burn the sheets or something,”

It was only when Jasper had called for her maid, and settled into hot bubbles with Peridot’s boneless body ensconced in the lee of her thighs that Peridot realised Saffron was the closest thing the estate had to a gossip columnist; and it was therefore a virtual certainty that everyone from the groundskeeper to the accountant would know all about Peridot sleeping with her boss’ recently divorced wife on the same day that the papers were signed. As she snuggled into Jasper’s chest, she wondered why she didn’t care


End file.
